The songs in this archive are almost all from cassette tapes of home recordings made in Ft. Collins, Colorado in the late 1970's. On these tapes I sing and play solo guitar or piano. The songs are diverse in subject matter, musical style and tone - from reflective and poetic to mildly scatological - so if you don't like one, you might try another. Thanks and love to Daniel Milchunas (and his reel-to-reel) for recording the original tapes from which the mp3 files here were made.

Indulge a dream or twoA little reverieCould never do you harmI'm sick of hiding the truthI don't know about youBut all I want is everything

I want to settle downI want to sail awayI want to have you free and have you stayI want to join the revolutionI want to be the kingI want big city nightsAnd those little country mornings

Indulge a dream or twoA little reverieCould never do you harmI'm sick of hiding the truthI don't know about youBut all I want is everything

I want to save the world I want to stay in bedI want to lose control and keep my headI want to hide and sing aloneI want you to hear my songsI want you to miss me so muchAnd feel no pain while I am gone

Indulge a dream or twoA little reverieCould never do you harmI'm sick of hiding the truthI don't know about youBut all I want is every...Just a little bit of every...All I want is everythingBack to Top

Don't look for me, you know I'll miss you, my friendIt's just the way I am, I swearBut for a while I've got my greenness to spendI'll take a rain check on that rocking chairI'll take a rain check on that rocking chair

Why talk to me about the end of the roadYou know that nothing's what we're owedThe time to bloom's not just one time of the yearSometimes it takes a song to make that clearSometimes it takes so long to make that clearBack to Top

Dr. O'Mara loves to sit and tellHow to get the landlord and rip off Mama BellShe's a roller coaster, a real good timeAnd I'm proud to count her as a friend of mine

Andrew Neecher, for many yearsListen to the doctors confirm his fears"Yes," But the doctors told him, "it must be saidTo be so outrageous and such a young lad"For Andrew Neecher is very gayEver since he can remember he has been that wayOnce he tried to conquer his "disease" and allWith the help of the Lord and alcoholBut Andrew Neecher's now doing fineTook himself a lover, he drew the lineEven one day of lying's not worth the time it tookTo down a bourbon and numb his mind

Sister Sarah worships the moonAnd plays Radio Jesus In her tiny background"There are demons. Be careful," She's heard to repeatAs she talks to the lamp lights on Marlboro Street

Peter Manidos has a cocky styleAnd a tweed beret and a toothy smileIf you ask him, "How are you?", he grins, "Can't complain"And goes on sidewalk tap dancing with his red and white caneBack to Top

Got a moment? I'll tell you a story that's bored me at least a billion timesIt starts and it ends with a perfectly clear-minded heroI can't divulge exactly where I got the details, but take it from meThe hero in question died young with his boots on of terminal virility

Tell me lies if you want to, but don't tell me truths with the sort of convictionThat characterizes the sort of fanatics who write songs with no contradictionsFor confusion is sacred, a reason for communication between usBut why should I burden you all with abstractions, for this is a popular song

Even Christ, you know, had his doubts in the garden so don't be disheartenedIf you find yourself in a state of confusion, it's part of the holy traditionYes, folks, revel in quandary, the natural expression of the will of the cosmosFor chaos will be with us, long after order has gargled a mouthful of dust

"Even things that are true can be proved" said a genius at one time or otherAnd that is the spirit in which I would like to address youHeaven knows, in my heart I'm the purest of well-meaning, sober ArmeniansBut don't be misled into thinking I know what I'm talking about in this song

So if you often feel confusedPut your foolish fears aside'Cause I never knewA soul as sane as youJust enjoy the rideBack to Top

Fingerprints and accidentsOf Fate's persuasive handsIt all comes down to differencesAnd trying to understand, understand

Prancing on the waterCame the Blessed UnicornIn silence, in silence, in silenceAnd deaf hands danced Her praisesIn a moving, hopeful psalmBlind men stroked Her beautyFor She loved and understoodExtraordinary fingersAnd the Uncommon Good

From a jagged altarI looked into the deepFor answers, for answers, for answersAnd saw in my reflectionImprobabilityThen I saw it there in every faceAnd I'm sure that ISaw the moon grow brighterAs it sailed across the sky

Fingerprints and accidentsOf Fate's persuasive handsIt all comes down to differencesAnd trying to understand, understandBack to Top

Happiness is timeless just like acne or gangreneThough not so stimulating as the rack or guillotineI wouldn't hold my breath waiting for pure tranquilityGo pinch a chocolate if you want a guarantee

Absolutes have had their fill of yes's and of no'sKnowledge is some old fruit tree found just in Bible prose"A rose is not a rose" warns IndividualityGo pinch a chocolate if you want a guarantee

I used to go to Sunday school and hear of the unseenLearned godliness was nearby when the laundry came out cleanBut if religion comes to nothing, at least it toughens up the kneesGo pinch a chocolate if you want a guarantee

Security is but another wishful myth, my loveInsomniacs invent when they need something to dream ofIf you should say "forever" you're not all there mentally Go pinch a chocolate if you want a guaranteeBack to Top

But might makes rightAnd in the middle of the nightWhen there's a knocking at my back doorBy some slimy parasiteI swear we'll discoverWhen we finally meet our makerHe's a wigged-out undertakerWho owns stock in toilet paper

Even in my youthWhen I read of Adam's shameAnd of sinners and SalvationAh - that Holy Novocain!Magic apples, talking serpentsDavid and the giantNow who would take that literallyExcept Anita Bryant

Hey you, in the skyWho are more supreme than IAre you black, white red or yellow?Are you straight or gay or bi?What do you, Great AlmightyHave you to gain in your careerInflicting on this lowly manThe pain of diarrhea?

Heavenly He-ManSomewhere in that great beyondI would like to beat you black and blueWith your magic wandCelestial, imperialWell all that's immaterial'Cause viral or bacterialThe shits are not ethereal

So God if you really love meLike my mother claims you doThen please explain yourselfGo love somebody elseBack to Top

You can't outlive a memory, I've heardWell, I don't knowBut what I've learned from all my painIs that hope falls to rise againJust like a grand old trooper In some slapstick routine

What's that movement in the air?Some seeds sprung from a podMilkweed spreading the good newsThat hope's the way to beat the bluesAnd fields of white-haired dandelionsDream of soaring in the windBack to Top

It takes two, I know, I knowTo murder mistletoeI used to say love conquers allWell, wash my mouth with soapWhen you break each other's heart to piecesWouldn't you like to cut the string on Cupid's bowIt takes two, I know, I knowIt takes two, I know

It takes two, I know, I knowFace it, RomeoLove can leave a taste of poisonHate to say I told you soWhen you break each other's heart to piecesWouldn't you like to tell the moon and stars where to goIt takes two, I know, I knowIt takes two, I know

Acid on the rosesSometimes love can lose its shineMelancholy babyOnce upon a valentine

It takes two, I know, I knowGay or heteroIt's all the same, it's love at warIt's pain in stereoWhen you break each other's heart to piecesIt's heads up and timber - look out belowIt takes two, I know, I knowIt takes two, I knowBack to Top

Though I've said don't ask me for tomorrowThat yes or no I could never give youThat life is not a black and white affairLife is sometimes very lonelyIt makes me think I could love one promiseAnd I ask, "What is love?"

Old man, let's go for a walkI have a minute freeHow come you're never in a rush?Do you have more time than me?You shake your head and then you smileWill I ever beAn old man like you?Here, put your arms around me

Let winter comeAnd bring the white to my browWe all become snowmenIt happens somehowAnd then one dayWe melt back into the groundOld man, I'm like youToo young to think of that nowBack to Top

Old Mr. LincusFingers gold and silver stringsGuitar chords rise out of nowhereAnd fall like light on everythingThat December evergreenHas been dusted by the snowStill to him, the world is newAnd he needs room to grow

He's got a devil of a smileAnd a soft genuine leather faceWhich has looked on its share ofThe hard luck and cruelty of our raceEtched with lines so longThat you'd almost think they couldEasily connect the starsAnd solve that pinhole puzzle for good

Old Mr. Lincus...

He says, "I'm not a simple manThough I take most things in stride"And he blushes, heart drummingAgainst his skin from deep inside"Easy come, easy goBut here's one secret I can shareLaughter and a good love songNever seen such a winning pair"

Old Mr. LincusFingers gold and silver stringsGuitar chords rise out of nowhereAnd fall like light on everythingThat December evergreenHas been dusted by the snowStill to him, the world is newThat's all he cares to knowThat's all he cares to knowBack to Top

Once it seemed that stringsCould only bind and tie me downMaking nets and knots and websWith freedom the next townBut I learned how they can giveWhen I need room to breatheAnd when we mingle stringsI love the mysteries we weave

I always thought that violinsCould only cry for meUntil I heard the fiddlerBow the same strings differentlyI saw, in the fiddler's fashionStrings ought to be playedI smiled and said goodbyeTo my minor daysBack to Top

And the sky objected"Who said I'm really blue?You'd think I were giving away secretsAs if nobody knewThis time I'm not apologizingFor saying what I have to sayFor sky can be quite beautifulIn a million different ways"

Eve, when resurrectedHad a different tale to tell"We lived a long and happy lifeAnd no apple broke the spellEden never really wasAnd we never really fellGod was never angryHe took the changes very well"

MetamorphototishMutatorieticizedOscillationiaryMultiversifiedMercurialanticEvoutionilizedFluidifidicativeBut never in disguise

I'm tired of asking questions'Cause the answers are all liesI love the chameleonChameleons are wiseGiving their hearts to where they areLetting the changes comeNot afraid of who they are Have been or will become Back to Top

The cheese isn't smilingIt says, "How unfairTo shoot a mild cheddarOr defenseless gruyere"And so there in the nudeOutraged and appalledIt protests being viewedAnd continues to stall By not cracking a smileBy not smiling at all

"I love you, Swiss cheese"The photographer pleads"If you smile, I will give you Immortality"But the cheese is unmovedBy all this folderolIt longs for the old Frigidaire Down the hallAnd the cheeseIsn't smiling at all

The cheese, if you pleaseIs impatient with artFor it wants to make timeWith some young celery heartAnd make passionate loveOn a bed of romaineHave you got the pictureFinally into your brain?There's a time to be artyAnd a time to refrain

Which raises the issue of weightAny idiot could soon calculateThat the center of gravity of this face of mineIs this prominence rising up from its midline

It's my ancestral Armenian noseThere's no telling how far back it goesIt was passed on to meIn some proud chromosomeBy consenting ArmeniansIn the privacy of their home

I wondered, "Is this how it should be?"When my nose grew up long before meTill my ethnicityWas officially decreedEssential to National Nasality

I've heard all those banana-nose jokesTold by flat-faced Anglo-Saxon folksObviously out of sheer jealousy'Cause they all look to meLike inbred Pekingese

If your nose is straight, sculpted and fineWhat a shame it's not more aquilineFor a real eagle beakHas more chic and mystiqueWho wants some marble statueGive me a hook or a cashew

To you well-endowed in the sizeOf the appendage just south of your eyesHold it high in the airYou're a credit to the raceGod built a mighty altarIn the middle of your face

And so I repeatFaces like mine are an acquired tasteVery much like Shakespeare or caviarIt is you who will lose, if you judge it in hasteBut if you take the time, it's well worth the waitIt's well worth the waitBack to Top

Work can make you crazyIt can push you to the brinkAnd even when it does no harmStill basically it stinksOn a stack of BiblesI swear it's semi-trueMaybe I'm a lazy manAt least I'm not a fool

Work has never been, my friendAs far as I can tellThe be-all and the end-allThat is spoken of so wellIt's a necessary evilThat's as close as I can comeTo a tenable positionIs that unAmerican?

America was foundedBy some foreigners way backWith a Puritan philosophyAll uptight, white and blackOur forefathers and for mothers preached"Idle fingers stray"As they warned foreadolescentsTo forget about foreplay

Work can make you crazyIt can push you to the brinkAnd even when it does no harmStill basically it stinksOn a stack of BiblesI swear it's semi-trueMaybe I'm a lazy manAt least I'm not a fool

There were seven tiny minersIn an old Walt Disney flickWho whistled while they workedIt made me violently sick'Cause it was work made Dopey dopeySleepy yawn and Sneezy wheezeAnd Snow White overdosedAnd turned into a ghostAnd Snow White overdosedWhen they died of black lung disease

I know that it is properWhen you've nothing good to sayTo simply keep your mouth shutWell, thank God I'm not that wayFor silence is not goldenWhen your life is ringing hollowWork's a sad and bitter pillI'll die before I'll swallow

Work can make you crazyIt can push you to the brinkAnd even when it does no harmStill basically it stinksOn a stack of BiblesI swear it's semi-trueMaybe I'm a lazy manAt least I'm not a foolBack to Top

NOTE: This song is from the 1968 Jeanne Moreau album "Les Chansons de Clarisse". I was introduced to it by my friend Giliane Ingratta (Goes) whom I met in France in 1971. It is my understanding that the texts were written by the 20th century French poet Eugène Guillévic (who went simply by the name Guillévic). Guillévic's words were set to music by M. Phillippe-Gérard (a French composer best known in the US for writing "When the World was Young" with Johnny Mercer). The songs are intended to embody the inner life of the character Clarisse in the Elsa Triolet novel entitled "Les Manigances". All very French, n'est-ce pas? In any case, I took a stab at translating (unauthorized) the song into English because to me it expresses in a humble, lucid and succinct way the individuality and mystery of love.

People come down on meThey say I've never lovedWhat they call loveLet them call loveWhat do they know of itAnd what do I knowTo each his ownAnd his own need to love

It could be that mineIs a need to loveWhich cannot in one otherFind all that it mustAnd so remains this songThat I throw out to youWhich I'd not dare to doIf I had never loved